


A Rare Case of Chaos

by mangogreent



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Dimension Travel, Gen, Master of Death Harry Potter, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23943133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangogreent/pseuds/mangogreent
Summary: Fury wouldn't have thought a man on a motorbike would be such a headache.Harry's just glad this world had restaurants and roads instead of sentient slugs and soggy soil.
Relationships: Phil Coulson & Harry Potter
Comments: 93
Kudos: 995
Collections: Harry Potter





	1. Making Friends and Martinis

  
"Ready, Hedwig?" 

  
Pushing against his hand, Hedwig began snapping her beak at his fingertips. 

  
Harry reared back, wincing as he shook out his hand. "Sorry, darling. I know you detest the jumps, but I'd prefer we leave this dimension before we start smelling like it," Harry reasoned, casting a hesitant glance at the barren landscape. The damp soil they resided on froze in the absence of the sun. He resisted a shiver. He muttered under his breath, "Sentient slugs are rather not my thing, those slimy buggers." 

  
He lifted his arm where Hedwig was perched and met curious eyes with his own.

  
"Forgive me?" Harry asked, scratching Hedwig's head feathers. She leaned into his touch.

  
Harry mounted his black motorbike and extended his arm out for Hedwig to glide down into the sidecar.

  
He straightened his black coat. Snapping his fingers, the motorbike's engine came to life.

  
"Death," Harry called into empty air. "Please tell me the next world you've chosen to take us is much less damp this one."

  
A breath of silence before a whistle of wind drifted by Harry's ear.

  
Harry sighed. "It's no wonder people fear Death. Imagine having you as company for their time in limbo. A bloody nightmare, I suppose." Revving the engine, Harry glanced down at Hedwig and smiled. "How does Universe-616 sound, girl?"

  
Hedwig blinked up at him.

  
The world shifted. 

  
The damp soil fell from beneath them until the sky's dim light vanished and was replaced by nothing at all. 

  
  


  
  


The earth shook.

  
Lights burned out and everything went dark.

  
Nick's staring out of a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility when it happened. Looking out at New York City, a place always seen as a blinding collage of buildings in the night, rid of any light was unsettling.

  
"Agent Hill." The latter looked to him, only for him to see she shared his confusion. "Find me the source of this, immediately."

  
"Yes, sir."

  
Nick pulled out his cellphone. Still functional, but useless without working service or internet connection. Power outages weren't uncommon. Problem was, what could cause a _citywide_ one? 

  
Looking to the streets below, Nick could tell a semblance of panic broke out, the sounds of yelling and car horns caught by the glass.

  
There wasn't silence, but it was eerie nonetheless. 

  
Electricity hummed.

  
Lights began to flicker before the entire city was swallowed by light once again. 

  
He turned on his heel. 

  
  


  
  


Whatever it was, they found the source of the power outage.

  
Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn, 4:53 AM, a powerful pulse of energy struck down, disrupting New York City's entire electrical circuit. According to the protocol, they'd send a team down to investigate. Thing was, from the location, they managed to trace a fast-moving figure with the energy's residue heading deeper into Brooklyn. 

  
"Turn on the traffic cams," Nick snapped, striding into the main control room. 

  
Following his orders, an agent displayed the various traffic footage capturing the unknown figure in real-time on the main screen. It proved difficult to see. Considering the distance between each cam and their quality, it took time but Nick began to put the pieces together.

  
Out of everything, Nick did not expect to see a man riding a black motorbike, a sidecar attached to its side, accelerating at a speed that should've landed him twelve tickets by now. He sped straight by a police vehicle a moment later. Unnoticed. 

  
Donning a black coat, the man took to a motorbike like breathing. He veered around cars and pushed forward with a grace Nick's only seen with professionals. 

  
The last time they encountered an energy spike rivaling this, it was Thor's goddamn lightning hammer. Mjölnir, was it? An Asgardian was his first guess, but he was pretty confident Asgardians were yet to ride motorbikes or any other kind of human means of transportation. 

  
As he watched the rider, he noticed something off about the motorbike's sidecar. 

  
"Agent Hill, rewind to camera seven hundred eight. Pause. Zoom in." 

  
The room, noisy from the sounds of keyboards and chairs, went silent as they stared at the display.

  
"Is that—" 

  
"It's an—" 

  
An owl. 

  
Nick deadpanned, "There's an owl in the sidecar."

  
  


  
  


The electricity didn't just _cut_ out in the Stark tower. It didn't. 

  
When the lights had flickered out, Tony had been figuring out improvements for his various suits in one of the many labs of the tower. Peering out of the windows, Tony laid witness to the brightness of New York City sputtering out. 

  
"Now that's a problem," Tony mumbled, biting on the end of his pen. 

  
A second lasting a breath past before the lights came back on, accompanied by the faint hum of electricity. "Jarvis," Tony called out, sliding his chair to the lab's control panel. "System report."

  
"All systems functional, sir," Jarvis responded. 

  
Tony pursed his lips. "'Kay, what happened?" 

  
"Sir, there appears to have been a powerful energy spike in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn. I suspect it was the source of the outage." 

  
"Huh." Tony knocked his pen against the table. "Weird." 

  
  


  
  


The gazes of many dug themselves into Harry's skin. He shouldn't have canceled the Notice-Me-Not charm, but he'd rather not get run over by a muggle who couldn't see him. 

  
He was surprised. Even a little impressed. It's yet to be twenty minutes since Hedwig and he had been tossed into this world on Death's recommendation and he already had a tail.

  
Harry loosened his scarf. "Should we throw them off, girl?" he asked, darting past a yellow light. Hedwig lifted a wing to clean her feathers. "I suppose not. I am craving some food. It's quite a pity those sentient slugs hadn't a single restaurant." 

  
Riding through the streets, a bright brand name caught his eye. Harry's eyes widened. "A McDonalds! Brilliant, I haven't had that in eons." Rearing back, Harry parked his motorbike by an alley. 

  
Hedwig flew to his shoulder. 

  
Stepping into the restaurant, Harry found there were hardly any people. Well, he had to consider the near-rising sun. Five in the morning, was it? 

  
Harry padded over to the front counter, eyes skimming over the menu before he promptly ordered a cheeseburger. 

  
The cashier took one drawn-out look at Hedwig. "No pets," he drawled. 

  
Harry smiled. "We'll be quick." 

  
Sighing, the cashier sluggishly punched a few buttons on the register before: "$3.50."

  
Harry slipped out his wallet from his coat and in its shadow, transfigured his yen bills into American ones. Last time he visited an Earth of some kind, Death had dropped him in Japan. "Here you go, lad," Harry said as he placed the bills onto the counter. "You wouldn't happen to know what city this is, would you?"

  
The cashier blinked, too exhausted to even conjured a face of disbelief. "Brooklyn, New York City." 

  
"Many thanks," Harry replied. "Have a swell night." 

  
He got a grunt in response. 

  
As Harry waited for someone to ring up his order, he was on the receiving end of many stares. No inquiries, fortunately. Once he picked up his burger, Harry exited the restaurant and leaned against his motorbike. He unwrapped the burger. Hedwig bumped her head against his and Harry made sure to tear and give her a piece which she gladly accepted. 

  
An eerie whisper of wind, beneath the sounds of a waking civilization, breathed in his ear. 

  
"Guns, huh?" Harry muttered under his breath. His stalkers seemed to be a little more cautious than Harry expected of them. "Any of them trained on Hedwig? Where?" 

  
Another whisper of wind had Harry's eyes sharpening.

  
"Oh, really." 

  
  


  
  


After finishing his burger, the target mounted his motorbike as the owl hopped down to the sidecar. 

  
Agent Shaffer adjusted his sniper scope. Compared to the many other tasks he had done, this was quite peaceful. Fury had quickly briefed them on the situation. Agent Shaffer could hardly believe the man his team was sent to scout was anything less of a human. 

  
That was until the target cracked his neck.

  
Rested a hand on his nape. 

  
And tilted his chin just right to gaze straight across the street to a distant apartment balcony—

  
—where he was currently stationed. 

  
In the night, it'd be impossible. 

  
Four buildings away and twelve stories up, it'd be _impossible, but—_

  
"Target has—" 

  
"Agent Shaffer, spit it out!" Fury snapped in the comms. 

  
The gun in his hand shook, and those distant haunting green eyes never wavered from his own. "Target has made eye contact! He's aware!" 

  
Chaos flooded the comms, but Agent Shaffer couldn't bring himself to move. His heart dropped. 

  
Never tearing his gaze away, a smile plastered itself on the target's face before a deafening crack split the air. 

  
A flicker of electricity and the man had gone.

  
"Fuck." 

  
  


  
  


No records. At all. 

  
Not a single piece of proof to prove this guy existed before this very night.

  
He was at a dead-end. 

  
The world was undergoing many supernatural changes recently, and Nick would prefer he didn't hear another word of it. 

  
  


  
  


Tony managed to find a file on the energy spike in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database. Illegal, yeah, but curiosity was a dick.

  
The number of things Tony learned from the file was scarce enough to make him question S.H.I.E.L.D.'s credibility. But he supposed he did learn _some_ things. Like how the suspected source of the spike was a young man. Black hair, green eyes, round glasses, rode a motorbike, owned a snow owl and was—

  
"British? Hey, Jarvis!" 

  
"Yes, sir?" 

  
"I found you a friend," Tony sang. 

  
"Sir, I find it quite difficult to believe a shared origin would lead to an automatic guarantee of friendship." 

  
  


  
  


"I'm not a threat if that's what you're thinking," the man offered as Phil took a seat beside him at the bar. 

  
"I apologize, but that is not for you to decide," Phil replied, turning to look at the man who's had S.H.I.E.L.D. running in circles for the past week.

  
The man was slippery, considering he was capable of instant teleportation. Quite a headache, he was. The man would order takeout, mount his motorbike, and take off. They'd send agents to capture him for an interrogation, but problem was, they couldn't find him. Because, well, they couldn't _see_ him in the first place. Agents working from the cameras could, but in person, he just wasn't _there._

  
As if he was invisible to the naked eye.

  
The man never did let them get into hearing range either way. 

  
Until now. 

  
Dressed in a red hoodie, he'd walked into a bar, no motorbike nor owl in sight. 

  
It was an open invitation for a meeting. 

  
Fury had ordered the bar to be slowly evacuated and to replace the staff with agents. Something could go wrong. This way, if things did, no civilian lives would be put in danger.

  
The man finished his martini, the rock music playing in the background fading into nothing. "Would I be wrong to assume you already have the entire building surrounded?" he asked. 

  
"Why ask if you already know?" Phil replied. 

  
The man shrugged, and the dim bar lights cast a soft glow into emerald eyes as he angled his head to look at Phil. "I wanted to know if you'd be honest with me." 

  
Phil met his eyes with a steady gaze. "Phil Coulson," he introduced, extending a hand. "I work for a military counter-terrorism and intelligence agency. We deal with things like global and national security. Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistic Divison, S.H.I.E.L.D. for short." 

  
The man's wide eyes told him he was impressed as he shook his hand. "I'm sure no one would willingly say the longer version. Love your acronyms, do you? Harry Potter, it's a pleasure." 

  
Finally, a name to go with the face. "I'd say the same, but I'm afraid I must admit you're running S.H.I.E.L.D. dry." 

  
"My apologies. It's a talent," Mr. Potter sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair. A smile slipped onto his lips. 

  
Phil couldn't keep one away from his own. 

  
Mr. Potter ordered another martini. "Are you going to order anything?" he asked, and although Phil was aware Mr. Potter had been drinking for some time know, the latter didn't show any signs of drunkenness. 

  
"No. Unfortunately, I can't drink on the job," Phil admitted. 

  
They watched in silence as the bartender put together the martini. 

  
It's not an uncomfortable silence. 

  
Phil wondered why. 

  
Harry Potter appeared to be in his late twenties, yet the atmosphere cloaking his entire demeanor said otherwise. He looked like he should be in college, partying with friends, and living his life. Instead, he was drinking martinis alone in a bar with the kind of eyes Phil never wanted to see on a person.

  
A scar shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead. Another scar looking like words, carved into the back on his right hand. 

  
Fury warned him this task might prove to be dangerous. 

  
And all Phil could think was, _of course it would be, Director._ _This man is shaped of war._

  
The bartender slid over a martini. Mr. Potter lifted the glass, staring down into the liquid before he sighed. He closed his eyes briefly. 

  
In the corner of his eyes, Phil caught the bartender faltering. 

  
"Is something the matter, Mr. Potter?" Phil asked, eyebrows knitting together. 

  
Mr. Potter snapped his fingers. The martini began to violently flicker green before it receded to its familiar colorless form. "Bloody hell," Mr. Potter muttered. "Really?" 

  
Phil questioned, curious, "What did you do to the drink?" 

  
"What did I do to the—ah, you have _that_ kind of boss." Mr. Potter rested his chin on his hand, annoyance sparking in dull green eyes. He pushed the martini back to the bartender. "I don't take well to being poisoned, and here I was about to answer a few questions for your little agency." 

  
Phil froze, stomach dropping. He let a minuscule amount of surprise to show on his face. "My apologies. My superior didn't inform—" 

  
"I know, lad." Mr. Potter sighed, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, soon adding, "A terrible decision on your superior's part, really. I've known a few people who'd shoot first, ask questions later if they found out someone tried to poison them. What an arse of a superior. I could have killed you." 

  
Phil was— _touched_ , he admitted, from the concern. Although Mr. Potter suggested the possibility of killing him, Phil learned the man indeed followed a set of morals. He turned to the bartender. "The same for Mr. Potter, please," he requested, a warning between the lines. "On me." 

  
The bartender nodded, eyes tinged with anxiousness.

  
"Harry." 

  
"Pardon?" Phil turned to Mr. Potter, finding bright eyes and none of its prior dullness. 

  
Mr. Potter hummed. "Call me Harry. Mr. Potter makes me feel incredibly old." 

  
"Then, it'll only be fair if you call me Phil," he replied with a smile. 

  
Harry returned it. 

  
The bartender served Harry another martini and Harry glanced at Phil before snapping his fingers. This time, the martini didn't light up. Harry lifted the glass to his lips as he acknowledged, "I suppose there are some honorable folks among you agents. I'll answer your questions." 

  
Before Phil could open his mouth, Harry added, "Not your agency's questions. _Yours_. I haven't a swell impression of your superior." 

  
"Understandable," Phil chuckled. He ran a few questions through his mind as Harry leisurely drank his martini. "What are you?" 

  
Harry swirled around his glass. "Human, last time I checked."

  
"That implies there's a possibility you're not," Phil pointed out. 

  
"Yes, there is." Harry hummed. "But I was born a human and I've always held onto my humanity." 

  
"Are you a threat?" 

  
Harry clicked his tongue as he shrugged. "Only if you piss me off, but I've been working on my patience lately. Last question."

  
"What's your purpose here?"

  
"Sightseeing." 

  
Phil paused. "In New York City," he stated bluntly. 

  
"What?" Harry rose an eyebrow, resting his chin on his hand. "Don't like New York, Phil?" 

  
"Well," Phil chuckled, "I could think of many other tourist locations better than New York City." 

  
Harry sipped his drink. "Hit me." 

  
"The Grand Canyon in Arizona, for example. A fantastic view. There's also the Bonneville Salt Flats, which I have to say, is a very mesmerizing location." 

  
Harry hummed, finishing his martini. "I'll keep that in mind if I'm looking for somewhere to visit." He tapped his finger against his glass, a faint chime ringing through the air before: "You're quite pleasant to talk to. I'll give you a bonus question."

  
"Feeling generous today, Harry?" 

  
"Only for you, Phil," Harry quipped. 

  
They shared a laugh. 

  
Phil hummed, pursing his lips in thought as he tilted his head before settling for, "What are you capable of?" 

  
"Many things." 

  
"That's not an answer," Phil mentioned. 

  
"Sure it is." 

  
Harry thumbed his cocktail glass. And when Phil blinked, he was holding a leatherbound book in his hand instead, the glass nowhere to be seen. Phil's eyes widened as brilliant fire burst from Harry's fingertips, swallowing the book in a cloak of heat, reducing it to a pile of ashes on the counter. 

  
Green eyes glowed. 

  
And as if an illusion, the ashes flickered, warping into Harry's hand until he was once again holding a cocktail glass. Like nothing had ever happened.

  
Phil lifted his eyes to Harry's to find pure mischief filling them to the brim. "See?" Harry laughed. "Many things." 

  
A harsh crack split the air in two. 

  
Lights flickered. 

  
Music stuttered.

  
And Harry was nowhere to be seen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this weird obsession with HP/Avengers Crossovers. This is completely self-indulgent lol. I've already pre-written all the chapters with some minor touchups needed so I'll update after a few days. My homework's piling up -_- 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Wash your hands and stay safe!


	2. Hitchhikers and Heroes

  
  
  


Tony had no problem finding the man on various traffic and security cams across various locations of New York City.

  
He _did_ have a problem approaching the man.

  
Thing was, this guy was a ghost.

  
"He's a goddamn ghost, Jarvis," Tony exclaimed, running his hands down his face as he leaned back into his chair. "Turns in one alley, comes out of one on the opposite side of the city. There is no logic here. He's broken multiple laws of physics in the time it takes me to make a sandwich.

  
"How do you suppose he's doing this, sir?" Jarvis asked.

  
"Mini-wormholes? Gosh, Jarvis," Tony grabbed his coffee mug only to find it empty. "I need to sleep."

  
"It has been forty-two hours since you've last entered REM sleep, sir," Jarvis reminded.

  
Tony waved him off. "Not the longest. Jarvis, watch that damn ghost and wake me up if you find something interesting."

  
"I will indeed do so, sir. I hope you have a well rest."

  
"Lights out, Jarvis."

  
  


  
  


One week.

  
It's been about one week since that damn ghost showed up. Tony couldn't seem to catch him. Even in his Iron Man suit! The guy would do his physics-defying gimmick and teleport miles away from his prior location.

  
Pepper ended up roping him in for a late dinner with Rhodey and her when Jarvis notified her of Tony's new obsession with his latest 'project.' As it was, Tony was currently driving to the restaurant with one of his expensive open roof cars.

  
Seafood, thank the lord. He'd been craving some lobster lately. 

  
He pulled up to a stoplight, adjusting his sunglasses as he watched the sky melt to red. 

  
With the hum of an unfamiliar engine, another mobile pulled up on the lane beside his. He glanced to the side.

  
His stomach dropped.

  
Tony ripped off his sunglasses and froze, staring with wide eyes at the motorbike rider.

  
"Traffic and security cams really don't do you justice," Tony said, staring at the damn ghost who'd been dragging him through the dirt for the past week. Unkempt black hair from the wind. Donned in a fine gray trench coat. Tony had to admit, the man would be turning heads as he went. 

  
Tony peered down to find a snowy owl in the sidecar.

  
"I'd appreciate you stop stalking me," the man said. "That metal suit of junk of yours is quite the intimidating factor. Hedwig has enough stress as is."

  
Tony gaped. "Metal suit of—I'll have you know I've been spending countless valuable hours of mine on trying to find you. Give credit where credit is due."

  
"I'm flattered, but this hardly counts. I sought you out. You don't deserve any credit," the man scoffed. He turned to Tony, sharp emerald eyes catching his gaze. "Now really, stop following me. I've enough trouble with that organization. Strategic Homeland... ah, I can't recall."

  
The light turned green and before Tony could open his mouth to reply, the motorbike shot forward.

  
Tony followed.

  
"What did I just say?" the man snapped over the sound of the motorbike engine as Tony drove to match his pace.

  
"Well, you were _trying_ to say Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Divison as _I recall_ ," Tony quipped, tilting his head innocently. The man narrowed his eyes. Tony added, smiling, "Don't like following instructions very much. Sorry if I hurt your little feelings."

  
They slowed down at another stoplight when the man looked down to his owl, asking, "Hedwig, dear, why don't you take a flight? I'm afraid if you listen to this bugger any longer, it'll affect your intelligence."

  
"Afraid your owl will get smarter than you in my presence?"

  
The owl—Hedwig, her name was—spread her wings and cleaned her feathers before hopping onto the back of the seat.

  
"Oh, I know darling," the man soothed. "Better leave quick if you want to avoid your ears filling with nonsense."

  
As traffic began moving again, Hedwig took one curious glance at Tony before flying off.

  
"What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment?" Tony asked, not-innocently, "Can't a man be curious?"

  
"Careful, lad. Curiosity isn't always a good thing." The man merged with the left-turn lane and Tony tailed after him.

  
Tony hummed. "Careful, birdman. No helmet? I gotta admit I can't vouch for the driving skills of New Yorkers."

  
A pause, before: "Helmets are suffocating."

  
"Yeah, wait till you get bulldozed by a truck and get your head flying into a fire hydrant, and then we'll see if helmets are suffocating."

  
"Snarky bastard, aren't you?"

  
"You'll never meet anyone like me," Tony smiled.

  
Giving him a blank stare, the man scoffed. "Considering this will be our first and _only_ meeting, let's keep it that way."

  
Tony said, "I'm Tony Stark. I'd give you a handshake but that's a one-way ticket to crashing."

  
The man studied him. Then: "Harry Potter."

  
"Well, Harry, how about—"

  
Tony blinked as noticed something was... off.

  
The motorbike's sidecar had vanished.

  
"Okay, timeout." Tony sat up straighter in his seat. "What the fuck." He lifted his gaze to look at Harry, whose lips were curled in a mischievous smile.

  
Harry revved the engine.

  
"See you, Stark," Harry said, the wind catching his hair as a playful smirk slipped onto his lips. "Stay safe and stop stalking me."

  
The motorbike shot forward, unburdened by the sidecar, and left to glide through the gaps of traffic. 

  
  


  
  


When Agent Coulson arrived At Stark Tower unannounced, a file on the Avengers Initiative in his hands, Tony could only think of one thing.

  
Or, one _person_.

  
"Will our dear friend the magician be accompanying us?" Tony asked as he studied the Avengers candidates.

  
"Our?" Agent Coulson echoed, tilting his head. He replied, "I wasn't under the impression you knew him."

  
Tony informed, "He paid me a little visit. Told me he wasn't a big fan of stalkers."

  
Pepper shot him a look. "Tony," she said, "are you talking about that little project you can't seem to drop? What did I tell you about stalking people?"

  
Tony's gaze wandered. "To... not stalk people?" Tony answered.

  
"When did this visit happen?" Agent Coulson asked.

  
"Seems like S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't as vigilant as I thought," Tony mumbled before speaking out, "but I'll tell you. Happened last—Hey Pepper, remember we went to dinner with Rhodey and—yeah, happened last Tuesday evening. Down the street near that old bowling alley. So, Agent. The magician, he joining the party?"

  
Agent Coulson smiled as he answered, "No. We've yet to clear him as a threat. Either way—"

  
"You can't get a hold of him," Tony finished, pursing his lips. "Slippery guy."

  
"Very."

  
Tony sighed. "Guess we'll settle for big green, the capsicle, and the Norse model."

  
  


  
  


Harry's on a beach. Which beach it was, he didn't bother finding out.

  
The salty taste of the sea, the wind ruffling through unkempt hair, the soft sand beneath his heels. No slugs or soggy soil in sight. Universe-616 was one of the nicest dimensions he'd been in for a while.

  
Leaning against his parked motorbike, he watched with gentle eyes as kids splashed in the water and built sandcastles, parents sitting on picnic blankets, preparing food, and taking pictures.

  
Harry munched on a treacle tart. Although it didn't meet the same standards as a British one, Harry had to give New York City credit.

  
A little boy, drenched head-to-toe in seawater, ran from the ocean and toward his parents when he stumbled forward toward a half-buried rock. His parents yelled. Harry clicked his tongue. And the boy gained his balance once more. With a grin, the kid carefully waddled his way into his mother's arms as she scolded him, a towel ready for him. 

  
Something tightened in Harry's chest like a thorned tendril curling around his heart. Harry breathed out.

  
The world faded away.

  
Harry reached into his unbuttoned black leather jacket and pulled out a photograph. Folded, creased. And tasting of fading magic.

  
  


He smiled bitterly at a picture he couldn't bear to forget. Since well, he had realized at one point, he'd already forgotten almost everything and everyone else.

  
No one knew magical photographs would stop moving at one point.

  
Harry never knew either, but the moment the movement in the photograph stuttered, he understood why.

  
Harry blinked. Screaming and gasps wrenched him out of his daze.

  
Following the gazes of many nearby civilians to the sky, Harry saw, above the skyscrapers, amid a soft blue, as a void tore open the reins of reality.

  
He tucked the photograph away.

  
Charming his glasses, Harry narrowed his eyes to get a better look to only think, _are those aliens coming out of that big hole in the sky?_

  
"Bloody hell." Harry sighed as he canceled the charm and muttered under his breath, "At least it's not sentient slugs."

  
Harry pushed himself up from his motorbike, dusting stray sand off his jacket and jeans. He peered into the sidecar where Hedwig slept. Snapping his fingers to detach the sidecar, he summoned his wand to his hand, the Elderwood cold and chilling under his touch. Quickly but carefully, Harry weaved tendrils of magic around her. A pulse of magic thrummed through the air. Harry hummed, admiring his wards before sighing as he admitted, "My warding skills need work."

  
Harry mounted his motorbike. He watched as small figures and enormous ship-sized beasts sailed through and about the distant skyscrapers. "Merlin, 'Mione," he mumbled. "And here I thought I got over my saving people thing." 

  
And toward a day of reckoning, under the spring sun and the chaos of the world, Harry laughed. 

  
"Teddy would've loved this."

  
  


  
  


After being sent thrashing through the air from the Helicarrier and crashlanding in an old warehouse, Bruce had managed to borrow a motorcycle that traveled at the speed of a little kid running. He supposed it's better than nothing. He wouldn't be able to sprint to Manhattan on his own two feet anyhow.

  
By the time he was on the outskirts of Manhattan, Chitauri were pouring out of a portal in the sky.

  
This gunky old motorcycle was killing him, but the good thing was, he was able to ride through the spaces of abandoned cars.

  
Screaming filled his ears. People sprinted past him, all in favor of getting the hell away from whatever was happening.

  
The motorcycle started sputtering once more and a curse dangled on the tip of Bruce's tongue.

  
"Need a ride?" 

  
Bruce turned.

  
A young man, dressed in a fine leather jacket and pair of jeans, pulled up to him on a sleek black motorbike and when they met eyes, the Hulk went silent.

  
"What?" Bruce asked with wide eyes.

  
"I'm afraid that old thing won't last another sprint," the stranger pointed out as if it wasn't already obvious. "Blimey, how old is it?"

  
"I... I don't know. I didn't ask." Bruce gestured to the hole in the sky, sputtering, "You're willing to give me a ride into an alien invasion?"

  
The man shrugged, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the motorbike's handles. He feigned an expression of thought. Then he nodded. "Yep."

  
"You're crazy," Bruce breathed, not said unkindly.

  
"A little, I suppose," the man chuckled. "Well, we've both got our reasons, I'm sure. Hop on."

  
"You don't even know me." _Know what I can turn into_ , Bruce finished to himself. If he wasn't careful, he could hurt the man. 

  
The man sighed. He ran a hand through unkempt black locks and said, "Bloody hell, just hop on! We can cue the introductions once we're moving. Hurry along now! We've spent enough time chitchatting on the street." 

  
Unmounting his motorcycle, he leaned it against an abandoned car and clambered onto the man's motorbike, stumbling. The seat was much more comfortable.

  
"Don't worry," the man reassured, "You won't fall off."

  
The motorbike shot forward.

  
And god, did Bruce wonder how he didn't fall off.

  
  


  
  


  
Amid the harsh wind, Bruce learned three things. The man's name was Harry Potter. He'd been touring around New York City for a while now.

  
And that the Hulk was calm in his presence.

  
There's fresh air in his lungs and wind through his hair and not a single feeling of sharing a body with a beast. It's strange.

  
Riding on the back of a stranger's motorbike into the heart of an alien invasion is—well, it's the most peaceful he had ever felt since the experiment.

  
The sounds of sirens broke him out of his daze.

  
"What's your reason for giving me a ride?" Bruce yelled.

  
Harry admitted with a chuckle, "Well, lad, you looked pitiful on that piece of scrappy metal with your loose dirty clothing quite honestly."

  
"Gee, thanks."

  
"My pleasure. And your reason for wanting to ride straight into the chaos?" Harry asked.

  
"My co-workers are—"

  
From the sky, a distorted inhumane figure leaped down in front of them, crushing through the concrete below it.

  
Harry swerved to avoid it.

  
"What the hell was that?" Bruce shouted.

  
"It was an alien, Bruce. Don't get your knickers in a twist," Harry said. He sped up.

  
Hearing the sound of an ongoing engine, a swarm of Chitauri charged at them.

  
"Whoa, whoa, Harry—!"

  
Harry let out a laugh as he revved his motorbike, a grin plastered on his face. "This is definitely an improvement from fighting sentient worms!" He snapped his fingers. The Chitauri lunged at them, only to be sent thrashing through the air as a whip of fire burst into existence, lashing forward.

  
Bruce gaped. A billion questions on his tongue.

  
Unspoken but heard, Harry answered, "Nothing more than some magic, Bruce. Surprised?"

  
"A little!" Bruce snorted.

  
"What do you think is keeping you from flinging off the seat?"

  
"I don't know! Your driving skills?"

  
Harry leaned forward, laughing as he said, "I'm flattered you have that much faith in me."

  
An office chair fell from the sky and Harry made a nasty swerve to avoid both it and the many Chitauri and cars scattered across the street. 

  
"So, please do continue." Harry asked, "Meeting up with your co-workers for a nice potluck at the office? Where do I drop you off?"

  
"I don't know exactly where," Bruce admitted, resting a hand on the back of his neck. "They're probably busy fighting right now."

  
"If you give me one of your co-workers' names, I may be able to find them."

  
"Umm, Tony Stark?"

  
Harry's head snapped back to look at him. "You're co-workers with that bugger?" he exclaimed.

  
"Watch the road!" Bruce screamed in time for Harry to avoid diving straight into a wall.

  
"I got it, Bruce, I have a license for a reason," Harry reassured.

  
"You're friends with Stark?" Bruce asked, ducking down to dodge a flying piece of metal.

  
Harry bit out, "Not exactly." 

  
A Chitauri leaped out, a metal pole held in its hands. It swung and Harry slid the motorbike underneath the pole, Bruce lurching to have his face an inch from the ground.

  
"Do physics apply to you?!"

  
Harry chuckled. "Having fun?" he called as he steered the motorbike from being parallel to the goddamn ground.

  
"This isn't exactly a grade-school field trip!" Bruce replied. 

  
A gigantic shadow cast over them briefly and Bruce watched a Chitauri ship flying overhead.

  
"Point me, Tony Stark," Harry said. 

  
Bruce got the feeling Harry wasn't talking to him when a thrum of energy pulsed through the earth. 

  
Harry took a sharp turn down another street as he informed, "Found him." 

  
"How... how exactly?" 

  
Harry peered over his shoulder and Bruce's eyes met ones shining of adventure. 

  
A screamed pierced the air. They both snapped their heads to look at a small street they passed. They both managed to catch a glimpse of a horde of Chitauri surrounding a group of people, cornering them against a wall. 

  
With a lurch, Harry reared back, spinning on the motorbike's wheels with a screech of tires and rushing back. Pressure fell upon the earth. A scathing snap of fingers cracked through the air and a beam of crimson light sprung forward, taking the heads off of the group of Chitauri. 

  
Pulling to a stop in front of the group of people, Harry directed, "It's too risky to leave the city. Evacuate to a lower floor and barricade yourselves, away from all the windows. Ensure you have escape routes. Understood?"

  
Bruce had only heard that tone in commanding officers in the army.

  
As if shaken out of a daze, the people began to move. They didn't even argue, expressions of relief coming to view from having someone to tell them what to do. 

  
What stopped them from moving on, were two children who refused to move from their place. Tears fell from their eyes.

  
Harry's next actions weren't what Bruce had expected from him.

  
Harry unmounted his motorbike, padded forward, and knelt. He opened his hand to show it was empty. He closed it into a fist, and when he opened his hand once more, two chocolates laid in his palm. Harry whispered exaggeratedly, "Don't tell your parents, alright?"

  
The children hesitantly took them, sniffling.

  
Harry ruffled their hair. "Don't worry," Harry reassured, a gentle smile on his lips. "It'll be over soon, I promise."

  
And it's the kindest voice Bruce had ever heard from anyone. 

  
The moment was short.

  
Harry spun on his heel and climbed onto his motorbike, and without a beat, turned around and continued on their way. 

  
"You're pretty good at that," Bruce noted. "Done this before?"

  
When Harry didn't respond immediately, Bruce thought he said something wrong until Harry took a deep breath and murmured, "I suppose."

  
In the distance, a group of people came into view.

  
"That's them," Bruce said.

  
As they approached, Bruce noticed they were talking urgently. 

  
To signal their arrival, Harry revved his engine, once, twice. They turned. Harry skidded to a graceful stop and Bruce got off.

  
Harry parked his motorbike. Bruce stumbled over, as he offered, "This seems, well, _horrible_ ," gesturing to the whole invasion.

  
Natasha said, "I've seen worse. Who's your friend?"

  
There's recognition in her voice Bruce noted as he replied, "He gave me a ride."

  
Steve started, "A civilian?"

  
Bruce could tell Harry was resisting an eye roll as he drawled, "There are much more important matters to tend to than worrying about my well-being, as touched as I am." 

  
"Stark," Steve said into the comms. "We've got him. Just like you said." 

  
Bruce could faintly hear Stark's response before a figure appeared in the sky, a Chitauri Leviathan at its tail. 

  
"I... I don't see how that's a party," Natasha said, a frown on her lips. 

  
Bruce looked at the enormous approaching alien and understood.

  
Steve turned to Bruce. "Dr. Banner, now might be a good time for you to get angry."

  
Bruce began walking, and every step he took felt like weights on his shoulders as if the pressure was trying to bury him. "That's my secret, Cap," Bruce replied, peering over his shoulder. "I'm always angry." 

  
  


  
  


Steve watched as Bruce shifted into the Hulk, stepped forward, and drove his fist into the Chitauri. The ground rocked. Skidding back, Hulk planted his feet into the concrete before the Chitauri's body propelled forward, its momentum carrying it over. 

  
Its shadow cast over them.

  
"Hold on," Stark called, firing a missile into its body. 

  
A moment lasting a breath before an explosion split the air, sending shards of metal and sparks raining down. 

  
Looking at the civilian Bruce brought along, Steve shouted, "Take cover!" 

  
Steve held his shield up. Natasha and he hid behind it. Barton managed to slip behind a car and Thor didn't turn away from the explosion, standing straight and tall with his raised hammer. 

  
Peeking from under the shield, Steve watched the motorbike rider stand directly under the shower of metal, but the thing was, not even a spark or speck of dust dared to fall on his figure.

  
Amid the chaos, the rider remained free of debris, the Chitauri Leviathan in shards.

  
The dust took a minute to clear. 

  
"Looks like we've got more trouble," Natasha muttered. 

  
Steve followed her gaze to the portal in the sky to find more Chitauri troops pouring out of it. And as if he was back in World War Two, taking over command, Steve shot out instructions for each Avenger.

  
They scattered without a word.

  
Steve turned to the motorbike rider. "Listen, son. This isn't a place for civilians. You should find a place to hide or evacuate to."

  
"What makes you think I'm a civilian?" the man asked without a beat, staring back.

  
Bold blue met glazed green.

  
Steve's gaze fell over him. Although the man took a carefree posture, a calm confidence—not arrogance—lining his body. There's a haunting call of excitement and experience in his young eyes.

  
And Steve thought without a beat, _this man's a soldier._

  
"I can vouch for him," Stark said through the comms. "Harry Potter, he's been under S.H.I.E.L.D. observation for his unexplainable teleportation. He's had Fury running in circles for weeks."

  
"You aren't any different, Stark," Potter shouted.

  
Steve pursed his lips, hesitant.

  
Potter cast a steady glance at him. "I got Bruce here safely, didn't I?"

  
He did. And Steve didn't believe just anyone could ride straight through an alien invasion unfazed and untouched.

  
Steve asked, "Can you give us ground support? Keep these guys contained?"

  
Without a stumble, Potter mounted his motorbike. He snapped his fingers. The engine blared to life and Potter smiled. "Gladly. Now, be a dear and pass me one of those earpieces." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit fast-paced but that's what I was going for. I'm trying to keep the tone a little carefree and comedic. I was supposed to upload this earlier but once I uploaded the first chapter, I realized there were many 'white spaces' and gaps in the story so I wrote more scenes than I intended to. Next and last (?) chapter hits next week or so lol I got some homework


	3. Wars and Winds

The world tasted of chaos, and Clint had long grown used to it.

  
Clint nocked an arrow, drew it back, released it. And left it to the wind.

  
He repeated the cycle, turning the fast-flying blurs of Chitauri ships into plummeting heaps of metal.

  
Beyond the songs of madness, sticking out like a sore thumb was the roar of a revving engine. _Potter's_ revving engine.

  
As he reigned in the skies with his bow, Clint kept a tab on Potter and his bike.

  
Clint had never seen the model. It wore a fresh new layer of black paint to hide its outdated parts. Outdated they were, but worn out, they weren't. Even Clint acknowledged the newest motorcycles would have a hard time keeping up with Potter's speed.

  
Clint nocked an arrow.

  
Harry Potter had been under S.H.I.E.L.D. observation for weeks. Almost a month. According to the last discussion he had with Phil, they'd made little progress. It was hard to come by. Trying to corner a person capable of instantaneous teleportation was a lost battle from the start.

  
Clint learned that in contradiction to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s first impression of him, Potter was rather harmless (despite his... stunt of causing a citywide power outage.) Potter acted like a tourist. He explored the city, tried out the various cuisines, talked with citizens, bought souvenirs. He drove without a valid license and a helmet. But it's not like the police cars ever noticed.

  
There was a more serious crime, Potter had committed. Technically. Thanks to a McDonald's security camera, they'd caught him transfiguring Japanese currency to American under the shadow of his wallet. Odd thing was, he accurately converted the bills.

  
"A good show of morals," Clint replied when Phil had told him.

  
Either way, Clint didn't trust the guy. Didn't want to.

  
After Loki, Clint was far from a fan of magic.

  
Loki's harmed and killed with magic. Toyed with the minds of him and others, using them as puppets tied to a string.

  
Magic was dangerous.

  
And yet—it wasn't. It was a tool.

  
Clint's lived enough to know there wasn't only right or wrong.

  
Releasing three arrows, Clint didn't bother to see if they hit their mark as the following sounds of nearby crashes were enough of an indicator.

  
"Cap, twelve arriving on your left," Clint said into the comms. From above, he watched Potter speed through the streets before raising a golden shield with an air-splitting snap of his fingers, separating off a pair of stray teenagers from a nasty wave of gunfire.

  
Potter moved fluidly. He looked as if he'd done this many times before.

  
Phil had admitted to him that from what he observed, Potter might've been a soldier.

  
Clint believed him.

  
A Chitauri, claws dug deep into the pillar of a building, leaped, lunging downward at Potter, who rode on unaware.

  
By the time the Chitauri took its next breath, it had an arrow in its head, sending its limp body crashing against the concrete.

  
Clint watched Potter go.

  
He nocked another arrow.

  
Clint didn't want to trust magic—or whatever it was that Potter did, and for a reason.

  
But he could try.

  
  


  
  


Under the gunfire of the Chitauri, Steve dove behind the cover of a car, his shield tucked close to his chest. His heartbeat drummed in his ear.

  
The sound of approaching footsteps and the crunching of gravel sent Steve rolling out from behind the car. A laser flew past his ear. He flung his shield, hurling it into a flurry of Chitauri as he clenched his fist and punched one who dared to step too close.

  
Steve took in a deep breath. He scouted the street, catching his rebounding shield without much of a glance, to find the absence of any lingering Chitauri.

  
Steve began running off to find more. He didn't get far before he came to a stop when a familiar engine rumbled in his ears. He peered over his shoulder.

  
It'd been only five minutes since Steve's seen the motorbike rider. And yet here he was.

  
"You look quite lonely over here," Potter said, pulling up to Steve's side on his motorbike and leaning forward to rest his forearms on the handles. "Fancy a ride?"

  
"Yeah, thanks," Steve replied, hopping onto the back of the bike before it lurched forward at a speed it couldn't have reached without _some_ acceleration. The wind caught his hair. The chaos of the sky and earth became blurred and left behind.

  
"I must say, those were some impressive moves you did there, lad," Potter complimented. "You've a nice command of that shield."

  
"Thank you," Steve replied. "This is the first time in a while that I've gotten a chance to really stretch."

  
Potter's voice cut through the raw wind. "We share that in common."

  
Steve started, "If you don't mind me asking, weren't you just here?"

  
"I've already cleared a few streets. I decided to round back." Potter guided them through a barrage of abandoned cars without much of a stumble. "I'm quite good at this."

  
A Chitauri lunged at them from the rear and Steve didn't hesitate to strike it in the face with his fist. "Fighting aliens?"

  
Humming, Potter answered, "That too."

  
"Then what?"

  
Potter laughed and the world laughed with him. "Adapting to chaos."

  
"Really?" Steve asked. "We share that in common."

  
Potter chuckled.

  
With a screech of tires, Potter took a sharp turn down an alley for them to look up and see as eight Chitauri descended on them. Potter clicked his tongue. An invisible force, thin as glass, propelled upward, shoving the Chitauri away with enough force to send them ramming into the walls.

  
Steve's eyes widened. Potter continued to drive through and out of the alley without much of a glance to the side. Did Potter use some sort of new invention? He only used a cue.

  
"So, alien invasions." Potter's voice cut Steve out of his thoughts as he asked, "You do this often?"

  
"Fortunately, no. This happens to be a first," Steve answered, glancing up at the wormhole.

  
Potter rolled his shoulders. "Don't worry, you get used to it," he hummed.

  
Steve blinked, bewildered. "Is that a reference?"

  
"Is it?" Potter peered over his shoulder, head tilted.

  
Steve opened his mouth to reply but a rain of gunfire upon them interrupted him. Potter brought up a hand. A golden shield materialized in front of them as Potter swerved to a stop.

  
"Ugly buggers, aren't they?"

  
Along the street, lingered five, ten, twenty, around thirty Chitauri.

  
"This is my stop." Steve swung his leg over the motorbike and stepped off. "I appreciate the ride."

  
"Do have fun, Cap."

  
Steve chuckled, shaking his head.

  
Potter smiled. He extended a hand, the day's pandemonium reflecting in his green eyes as he said, "I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced. Harry Potter, it's a pleasure."

  
A wave of gunfire struck against the golden shield, and Steve turned to hurl his own, hitting one, two, four Chitauri in one quick succession.

  
Potter whistled.

  
Steve turned back around, caught his shield, and shook Potter's hand. "Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you, Harry."

  
  


  
  


It's almost therapeutic, fighting was.

  
With a click of Harry's tongue, spells of forgotten colors flared off from the very whisper of his magic.

  
The Chitauri stood no chance.

  
Harry didn't like aliens all that much (despite being one himself.) The warmongering ones, anyway.

  
These past years, Harry had been trying to avoid conflict. It's difficult. Trouble sang to him, and Harry didn't know what he could do other than answer its calls.

  
An enormous shadow cast over him as he drove. Harry looked up. A Leviathan, previously sailing through the air without a hitch, began descending upon him. Harry narrowed his eyes. What once was his new friend Bruce, stood a large _green_ man on top of the Leviathan, tearing into it like a hot knife through butter.

  
Harry lifted a hand to his nape. He cracked his neck. One moment of displaced air later found him not under the body of a recently deceased alien and instead, in a different part of Manhattan.

  
His magic breathed. Thrill pulsed like a very heartbeat through his bones as the sound of the engine fell beneath his focus.

  
As easy as breathing, Harry lifted his hand and _yanked_.

  
Like tendrils, his magic plucked Chitauri out of the sky, whipping them to the floor faster than they could register. It's second nature. To wave up shields and conjure threads of flame and call out stars from their hiding place.

  
Fighting slimy slugs was— _wasn't_ the most desirable situation.

  
But _this_?

  
He almost laughed at how adventure always seemed to find him.

  
And then his magic stilled.

  
Under the high of battle, solemn words filled the comms, and Harry's gaze lifted to the sky. Harry pursed his lips.

  
Would it be appalling for Harry to admit he missed the thrill of war?

  
(And as Harry watched Stark, alone and aware, accompany a nuke through the wormhole to save the many lives of here, Harry knew the answer to be, and to always be, yes.)

  
  


  
  


Stark had survived.

  
Plummeting from the sky, Bruce had caught the man and roughly rolled him out onto the road.

  
The motorbike's engine died.

  
Harry watched as Thor tore off Stark's iron mask.

  
A whisper of wind, marked by Death's foul breath, fell by Harry's ear to tell him it wasn't yet Stark's time.

  
Harry's heart twisted.

  
Woken from Bruce's roar, Stark gasped and with wide eyes, looked around frantically in his unmoving suit. "What the hell?"

  
It was a curse for Harry to find those a slave to fate.

  
"What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me," Stark choked out.

  
Harry's heart loosened.

  
Something small in his chest thrummed as he blinked in surprise.

  
Oh.

  
Harry had almost forgotten how it felt to love humanity.

  
  
  


  
  


So, Shawarma.

  
Compared to the chaos of their day, Shawarma had been the only peaceful event.

  
Half-dead but still able, Tony had brought them to where he remembered the restaurant to be, only for them to find it in shambles.

  
Tony shrugged. He began to approach the crooked door when Harry stopped to give the restaurant one long calculating look. Tony asked, "What? Not a fan of shawarma?"

  
Harry didn't bother to reply. For the next thirteen seconds, Harry decided to completely chuck logic and reason through the window, as he regularly did. Harry snapped his fingers.

  
From the floor, shattered glass shivered before mending itself together into its former spotless pane, and soon after, it fitted itself back into the window frame. Splintered tables repaired themselves. A convenient wind swept out the dust followed by shards of fallen light bulbs fitting together and ascending to their places in the ceiling.

  
As a finale, the crooked door straightened.

  
Tony stared blankly. Okay, what _couldn't_ this guy do?

  
As if reading his mind, Harry didn't spare him a glance as he walked past him and into the restaurant, a smug smile on his lips.

  
Everyone filed in through the door.

  
As they ate, Tony continued poking at Harry with questions with the goal of learning of the magician's many mysterious mysteries.

  
Harry chose to ignore him.

  
Smart move. But it was a move Tony didn't like nonetheless.

  
Tony poked him a fourth time before—

  
"Tomorrow morning, you could wake up as a ferret and no one would ever know it was me," Harry threatened nonchalantly, wiping his mouth with a tissue and not bothering to look up.

  
Save for Tony and Harry, everyone had stifled a laugh.

  
Not Thor though.

  
Thor just laughed.

  
  


  
  


"I've to attend Loki's trial, Stark," Thor replied when Tony began proposing the idea of hosting an after alien invasion party. Thor took a swing of his glass of water.

  
"Which will be, what," Tony reasoned, handing the card machine back to the waitress, "two, three days? I'm sure you can spare the time for a little get-together. I have quality liquor. Plus a quality karaoke machine."

  
Natasha stared at him. "Stark, you have parties almost weekly."

  
"And I hear you all don't." Tony leaned back in his chair and gestured out with his hands as he said, "See how nice I am, offering to host a party for my co-workers?"

  
Clint scoffed. Shaking his head, he finished his meal as everyone else already did.

  
They rose from their seats, bellies full. Walking out of the restaurant, Tony, with the bribery of high-quality drinks, gourmet food, and karaoke, managed to rope in everyone for his little celebration that would take place a few days after today.

  
Everyone meant everyone minus one.

  
"Hey, magic man!"

  
Harry, who'd begun walking over to his parked motorbike, paused, then continued walking until he reached it. "Yes, Stark?"

  
The way Harry's shoulders dropped told Tony he was holding back a sigh. Tony smiled. "Do you know how to use Google Maps or do you already know how to get to Stark Tower?"

  
Harry peered over his shoulder. He held Tony's gaze. "I'm afraid I won't be attending your party if that's what you're really asking."

  
"Why not?" Tony asked.

  
"I've not explored the entirety of New York City yet."

  
"You've got a couple of days to do that," Tony reasoned, shrugging.

  
Harry's eye twitched.

  
Tony hummed before asking, "How about a compromise? What say you?"

  
Turning around, Harry crossed his arms and leaned back onto his motorbike. "Remind me again what exactly there is to compromise?"

  
Steve stepped forward. He interjected, "Stark, don't force him."

  
"Since when did you get so friendly with the magician, Cap?" Tony asked before returning to the original subject with, "About that compromise. How about this, I'll order some British cuisine. Snacks you enjoy, say, I don't know, treacle tart?"

  
Harry tilted his head. "Hmm, and how do you know that?"

  
Tony replied, "That's not important."

  
"Whoa, whoa. Can't you give the guy a bit of privacy, Stark?" Clint asked.

  
"Say that to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s face and then we'll talk, Legolas."

  
Harry and Steve blinked. They exchanged confused looks at the nickname.

  
Harry perked an eyebrow.

  
Steve shrugged.

  
"So, how about it?" Tony bargained, "If you attend, I'll have the world's best treacle tart, just for you."

  
"I'm flattered. Your persistence is admirably annoying," Harry replied. A pause. "I'll consider it."

  
As Harry mounted his motorbike, Natasha approached. "Mr. Potter," she spoke up.

  
Grabbing his attention, he replied, "Just Harry's fine. What is it, lass?"

  
Natasha answered, a stern expression catching her face, "Fury will want a talk with you."

  
"Fury?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

  
"The scary guy with the eyepatch," Tony explained.

  
Harry stared at him.

  
"The Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.," Steve added helpfully.

  
"Oh—" Recognition flickered over Harry's face. "Bloody hell, _S.H.I.E.L.D._ I've never met the man, Fury, was it? He wears an eyepatch... Is he a pirate?"

  
Tony replied, amusement dancing in his eyes, "As a matter of fact, he is."

  
"I'd bring you in," Natasha started, head tilting, "but that doesn't seem like it would go too well."

  
Harry hummed. Drumming his fingers against the bike's handles, Harry clicked his tongue in thought before he sighed. "I suppose I should stop putting it off."

  
  


  
  


There wasn't an owl in the sidecar anymore.

  
Instead, there _was_ a snowy owl hovering outside the helicarrier's windows, an envelope held by the curl of its claws.

  
And it wasn't just _any_ owl. But an owl who belonged to one very special troublesome individual Nick would be better off forgetting about. He ran a hand down his face. Considering they'd never caught Potter using an electrical device, this answered one of their many questions.

  
Nick weighed his options.

  
An agent interjected hesitantly, "Should I open the window panel, sir?"

  
Nick's eye narrowed. "Open it," he replied.

  
The agent strode over to the window and unhitched the latch. They held it open.

  
The owl tilted its head, wings flapping before it swooped down and entered through the window. Attracting the bewildered stares of the many agents in the room, it flew toward him.

  
Nick lifted his arm.

  
Without a sound, the owl perched itself on it. Curious yellow eyes stared at him. Raising its claw to extend the envelope, Nick took it.

  
On the front, inked in roughly with a tool not resembling a pen's work was his last name.

  
Nick turned the envelope over. Once, twice. Fastening the envelope was a beautiful red wax seal, detailed with the symbol of a line through a circle within a triangle. Nick had never seen this symbol. It's not surprising. To be fair, Nick had never seen someone like Potter.

  
The owl tilted its head.

  
Nick considered denying the owl its freedom—considered on telling the agent to lock the window. He decided against it. The relationship between S.H.I.E.L.D. and Potter was neutral as both parties had yet to make a hostile move. Keeping Potter's pet hostage might not be the best idea.

  
The owl flew off his arm, heading for the window until it swooped down to snatch half of an agent's lunch before exiting the helicarrier.

  
Nick handed off the envelope to an Agent. "Leave it closed. Have it inspected and photographed in the lab. Crossmatch the wax seal," he ordered.

  
"Yes, sir."

  
According to the media, as reported by his agents, the world marked and identified Potter as an Avenger. Which he goddamn _wasn't_.

  
Nick admitted he did consider Potter as a possible candidate for the Avengers Initiative after his little magic show with Phil. The blank spaces in his files and his lack of existence stopped him. Potter's performance and display of morals during the invasion, as captured by the surviving security camera feeds, was commendable. He proved to be powerful.

  
Nick wondered if he should consider it again.

  
Turning on his heel, Nick began making his way over to the lab. Its doors opened automatically.

  
The agent stood by the lightbox, typing into their computer on the side. At Nick's appearance, they stood, straightened, and said, "I found there to be no hazards. There were also no matches with the wax seal."

  
Nick dismissed the agent. He picked up the envelope and took out his pocket knife. He sliced the top open.

  
Inside was a letter.

  
Nick could hardly call it one as it was more a note than a letter. He slipped it out and raised an eyebrow.

  
Using a bird for mail delivery, wax seals, and now parchment paper? What era did Potter live in?

  
Inspecting the neatly folded piece of parchment, Nick placed down the envelope. He stifled a sigh as he unfolded the note.

  
It said only two things.

_  
I'll see you soon. Do remember to prepare a nice pot of tea._

  
Nick really, _really_ hated this guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaAAAAHHHHHH 
> 
> Originally, I planned for 3 chapters. Extended it to 5. Last chapter's notes, I talked about filling the white spaces. The first version I'd written and planned to upload had the bare minimum. Only one scene in this chapter was in the first version lol. Hope you all enjoy I'm going straight to bed and I got a law class teams meeting in 5 hours oop


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